Eyes
by DarkAngel0410
Summary: The reason why Punk's gunning so hard for Randy. Light slash.


**Story Title:** Eyes

**Story Type: **Slash

**Characters: **Randy Orton, CM Punk, Mason Ryan, David Otunga, Josh Matthews, mentions of Matt Stryker, Micheal McGillicutty, Husky Harris and Colt Cabana (Scotty Goldman)

**Pairings: **Randy/Punk

**Rating: **NC-17

**Disclaimer: **Not mine; they belong to Vince and themselves. If they were mine, there would be a lot of sex tapes floating around, just sayin'.

**Warnings: **Slash, language, angst

**A/N: **I got the idea for this one after I saw RAW last night, which once Vince stopped babbling, was the best start to this particular show that I've seen in months. Randy all tied up in the ropes, Punk busted up and bleeding every where, all the eye fucking going on. And then, later, when Punk came out with blood still on his hands? To quote the awesome **candy_belle****: it was bloody hot (and totally skanky but that's him!) **That is, hands down, the perfect description of how I feel about Punk, lol. He's really hot, but kinda skanky sometimes, and I'm semi-ashamed of myself for liking him.

**A/N2: **OK, this turned out way different then I had planned on. I'm torn about it, to be honest. Basicly, this is just my take on why Punk's been gunning for Randy. Let me know if you like it, peeps.

Randy stormed through the curtain, looking around before he headed back to the "Nexus" locker room.

He walked down the hall, coiled and dangerous, every inch The Apex Predator. When Josh paused to ask him something, Randy just swung his head around and stared at the smaller man. Josh swallowed and stepped back, deciding that Striker could ask Randy about CM Punk himself; he wasn't about to get punted like Husky did.

Randy paused in front of the door, trying to calm himself down a little, but when he heard Otunga whining, he could slowly feel his temper going again.

"Look, boss, you should just let me," Dave told Punk, watching as his leader examined his broken nose in the mirror above their sink. "I could finish him off, no problem."

"I told you, I'll deal with him," Punk said firmly, gently prodding his face. He couldn't understand why Otunga just refused to listen to him when he told him something. "We understand each other." Punk added softly, remembering the look that had been in Randy's eyes when Mason had tangled him in the ropes.

Randy threw the door open, stepping into the room. Otunga and Ryan stepped forward, blocking Randy's view of the smaller man.

"Tell your sheep to move," Randy told Punk, his voice quiet except for the thin thread of rage that was just under the surface. "Or I swear to fucken god, I'll go through them."

Punk turned and put his hands on Dave and Mason's shoulder. Mason immediately moved to the side, but Dave looked at Punk in disbelief.

"Are you crazy, boss? He'll kill you after -" Dave's voice dropped ff when Punk just looked at him. The Second City Savior didn't say anything, didn't do anything except stare. And Randy watched the much bigger man just collapse into himself until he nodded and stepped to the side.

"Go check on McGillicutty," Punk ordered softly, looking at Randy. "I need to talk to Randy. Alone."

"Real nice, Phil," Randy sneered after the other two left. He knew how much Punk hated his given name; in fact, Randy was pretty sure that if he were anyone else -with the exception of Colt- he would be on the floor after Punk had jaw jacked for using it.

Randy wanted Punk to do something, anything, instead of just looking at him with that gleam in his eyes. He needed Punk to react instead of just standing there.

"You must still be an amazing fuck to have them snapping to attention so fast." Randy hated the question that was in his voice; hated even more that the answer was still important to him.

"I don't need to fuck someone to make them want to do anything for me," Punk told him, a flicker in his eyes the only sign that he wasn't as composed as he looked. And then he repeated the one thing that he knew was true: "Everyone can be worked."

"You and Goldman's golden rule," Randy sneered, inwardly relieved at Punk's answer. Punk might be a lot of things, and most of them bad, but he had never been a liar. "I don't see him here; did he finally crawl off on his own some where?"

Punk just smiled, but Randy could see the slight narrowing of the smaller man's eyes before he smoothed his face out again. "Jealous still, Randall?" Punk smirked, sitting down on the low couch and going through his bags. "Colt's over in Japan; he's finishing up his tour."

"I could give a fuck where his fat ass is," Randy spit out, turning away from Punk and facing the wall. He loathed the way Punk could still aggravate him and get him worked up enough that he could feel the vein throbbing in the side of his head.

"I want to know what the hell that was about." Randy ground out, his jaw ticking dangerously. When Punk let out a low laugh, Randy spun around and glared at him.

"Of course, you don't care," Punk said mockingly, pulling on a pair of baggy jeans on over his gear. "You don't care so much, that even two years later you're spitting out his name like it was the worst fucken thing you've ever tasted."

"You fucked him while we were still together," Randy snapped, completely losing his cool. Only Punk could ever push his buttons enough to make him forget himself. "Excuse me if I'm not his biggest fan."

Punk walked over and got into Randy's face. The anger and rage that was rolling off the younger man actually freaked him out a little. He backed up a couple steps before he stopped himself.

"Fucked him? Cabana is the best friend I've ever had, he's the only person I know who's never let me down. He's never turned his back on me," Punk snarled, his fury clearly written all over his face.

"He's never fucken condemned me without even bothering to ask me if I did something."

"I saw you," Randy hissed, shoving Punk away from him. "You went in his room and his fucken hands were all over you. And you were both panting like you were in fucken heat!"

"His hands were all over me because he had a fucken asthma attack," Punk told him coldly. "By the time I got him in the elevator and upstairs he could barely fucken stand. And I was out of breath because Colt's a little bigger than I am," Punk said, a little sliver of amusement in his voice despite the situation.

Randy froze, but his mind was going a mile a minute. He knew, of course, that Colt had asthma; it was common knowledge. He didn't get them very often but when he did they were usually pretty bad. Instead of waiting to talk to Punk, he had automatically assumed that his worst suspicions had come true.

But if it hadn't happened, if it had been something totally innocent.

"Punk -" "And what did you do?" Punk asked, his eyes blazing.

He bent over and pulled a t-shirt out of his bag and shoved his boots in and zipped the bag up. He pulled the shirt on and Randy saw a brief glimpse of a star of David and Colt's name before he put on a Flash hoodie and then turned back to Randy.

"Instead of calling me and asking me, instead of even banging on the door and demanding to know what was fucken going on," Punk went on, his face flushed.

"What did you do? You went and fucked two other people." "I didn't know -" "Shut the fuck up," Punk told him, even angrier then before. "I've been waiting for two years to fucken tell you this.

"Not only did you fuck two other people, not only did you use them to jump me so I was stripped of my strap," by this time Punk was livid; he was shaking and if it was anyone else, Randy would have thought they were going through withdrawl.

"Not only did you do that; which is enough to make me want to kick the shit out of you and stomp your fucken balls into next week. If you had kept it between the two of us -"

Punk trailed off for a minute and he looked away from Randy and for the first time something other then anger was on his face.

"I could have forgiven you for all that. Eventually. If you had kept it between us; but you didn't. I supposed all that wasn't enough for you, because what did you do after that?

"Do you remember what you did now, Randy?" Punk nodded when all the color faded from Randy's face, and Randy finally realized that this wasn't just about him, and it wasn't even just about Punk. It was about someone who was more important to Punk then almost anyone else.

"You decided to go to Vince, your dad's good buddy. And you buried Colt; killed any hope of any kind of push he could've gotten.

"Do you know what it feels like to look at your best friend and know that you're the reason his dream is dead? Can you even comprehend how it fucken feels to know that I was responsible for the person who hurt him? When he's never done anything but be there for me?"

"Look, I'm sorry, Punk. I can fix it, I promise."

Punk shook his head and headed for the door. "Your promises mean nothing. You've proven, just like everyone else has, that you can't be trusted. There's only one person who I trust, who has proven to me that he'll always be there for me.

"I meant every word of that promo, Randy. I'll do everything I can to make sure you never see that title again while I'm on the same show as you. You took Colt's dream, and I'm going to use everything in my power to make sure you never get to hold yours again."

Punk walked out of the locker room, making sure the door swung shut behind him. Randy stood there, sure that nothing was ever going to be the same again.


End file.
